Welcomed to the Mile High Club
by Crazyangel1
Summary: What could lead Sara and Grissom to squish themselves into a tiny airborne bathroom? CHAPTER TWO!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Sara or Grissom. All other characters are a product of my feeble mind and a good reason to start taking some kind of psychiatric medication.  
  
Archive: sure, anywhere. Ask me first.  
  
Summary: Oh, what can go wrong during a short flight to a conference? Oh God of the slapstick! What could lead Sara and Grissom to squish themselves into a tiny airborne bathroom?  
  
Author's Notes: Huge thanks to Kristin for the wonderful editing. Plus, you receive 20 geek-points for winning the beta challenge. 40 more geek-points and you can have your very own geek-toaster that says: "Geeks rule" every time your toasts are ready.  
  
Well, people, hope you enjoy this.  
  
* * * *  
  
Chapter One: And hello to you too, Miss Sidle.  
  
  
  
Grissom took a frightened peek at his watch as he stepped on the mechanical stairs of the airport and prepared to glide down into an unknown, but he suspected bleak future.  
  
He shifted his tie and winced. He'd set the damn thing too tight, it was strangling him. He probably had ligature marks around his throat.  
  
He looked to his left and nearly rolls down the stairs in shock.  
  
An old lady was staring at him. She winked lasciviously at him and smiled -not exactly the way a grandma would smile at one of her grandchildren.  
  
Grissom smiled weakly and looked away.  
  
I'm late. I'm never late, yet. . .  
  
He looked at his watch. I am today.  
  
She's going to have my head on a plate. She's already angry . . . He glanced down at the stairs. Is this thing moving??  
  
Yes, it is. But at a snail's pace, he answered himself.  
  
As the moving steps carried him down, the roof started to lift like a solid Venetian blind, revealing a small bar and sitting on one of the bar's stools, the most beautiful creature Grissom had ever seen.  
  
Ten to one she was a foreign exchange student from Heaven.  
  
First he saw one ankle, he tilted his head down to see more -that was when his lips started to drift apart in a sort of religious awe.  
  
Jesus.  
  
  
  
Christ.  
  
  
  
On a freaking pony.  
  
  
  
Legs, Grissom thought groggily, one, two. Two gorgeous legs.  
  
His weakness. Long, bare legs-  
  
"Hey, sir? Could you please move out of the way?"  
  
Who is speaking?  
  
Grissom swivelled around. A man of about thirty was walking backwards, against the continuous flow of steps. Behind him two more not-happy-looking people were doing the same thing.  
  
"Huh?" It was all Grissom managed to utter.  
  
"You're blocking the way. You'd been standing there like a statue for like ten seconds," the man replied, a bit out of breath by the forced exercise but still astonishingly polite. "Hey, I know she's a babe but you're going to make me miss my flight."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry."  
  
Grissom took a step to the right and a line of three people muttered their way down, casting deadly glares at him. He smiled apologetically.  
  
Grissom's eyes darted back to the bar.  
  
There she is, he thought.  
  
His angel was wearing a dark grey skirt cut an inch above her pretty knees and a matching dress jacket. Her head was facing the panoramic window and Grissom guessed she was staring at the taxiing aircrafts.  
  
The glow of the sun reflected on the tile floors gave her a glow of her own -all Grissom thought she needed was a halo and a pair of wings.  
  
Grissom closed his mouth and licked his dry lips. He left like he was admiring a piece of chocolate cake through a bakery window. He would sure like to eat this cupcake.  
  
Grissom shook his head.  
  
Stop acting like a horny teenager, he said to himself. You're waaaaaaay past that time.  
  
Suddenly she un-crossed her legs and said something to the bartender as she slid her empty drink towards him. The bartender chuckled at whatever clever words left her without-a-doubt beautiful lips and nodded  
  
She stood up. Grissom's mouth dropped open again.  
  
Ahhhh, such long legs. Like the showgirls he'd seen on the Lacy Duval's case.  
  
She stared walking towards him, her hips slightly swaying with each elegant stride she took. Grissom's eyes followed the gentle sway as if he were under a magical ancient spell. Left, right, left, right, left, right--  
  
"Grissom?"  
  
He blinked. What?  
  
Grissom realized all he could see were white swirling dots dancing in front of his eyes. He recognized the voice, though.  
  
"Yes?" he said, a bit confused. He blinked again.  
  
I'm blind! I'm blind! He thought horrified. She blinded me!  
  
"You're late," Sara said, folding her arms across her chest. She looked at him curiously and frowned. Grissom seemed dazzled, to say the least. "Are you ok? You seem. . .lost."  
  
Grissom's eyesight was returning and his eyes focused on Sara's familiar face.  
  
"Sure. I got blinded by the floor tiles," he answered.  
  
And by something else, he added to himself as his brain told him he should be ashamed for drooling over one of his subordinates.  
  
What was he going to do? Scoop his eyes out with a spoon?  
  
"Right. You are very much late. My day hasn't been a picnic, you know? First Catherine bullies me into wearing this-this 'thing'. Then you take your own sweet time to come here."  
  
She sucked air through her nose and glowered at Grissom.  
  
"I've been here the last 40 horrible minutes fighting off the sloppy come- ons of a thirty eight year old man with painfully obvious hair implants. I had to tell him I was a lesbian addicted to crack to shoo him away."  
  
No wonder he didn't recognize her before. Sara 'I hate skirts' Sidle was actually wearing one. And a very sexy one, he could vouch for that.  
  
And now he was supposed to pay attention to some stupid conference? Can you say 'no way'?  
  
"I'm sorry. I got stuck in-"  
  
Sara's eyebrows where aligned in a straight invisible line across her face. Look up 'pissed' on a dictionary and you'll see a picture of Sara, doing the same face she was doing now.  
  
Grissom knew from past experiences, not with him of course (he was always on time) that Sara hated to wait for other people. If she says 'Be somewhere at 2 o'clock tomorrow' you better synchronize you watches and honour your word or-  
  
"Traffic?" she repeated with a shade of a smile that could deceive you into thinking she wasn't royally pissed off.  
  
I pity the soul of the bastard that thought she wasn't really mad, Grissom thought.  
  
"How do you think I came here? Huh? How? On a flying brontosaurus?"  
  
He frowned, utterly puzzled by her chose of words. He mouthed the words 'flying brontosaurs'. Somebody has had one too many drinks at the bar.  
  
Sara expanded. "A kid was watching 'The Flintstones' on a portable T.V. Keith was his name. An hour ago I was sitting next to him and just for you to know --he thinks you're a bad man."  
  
"I'm sorry again." Grissom looked at his watch and added, "We should be boarding now."  
  
***  
  
Grissom was tempted to shield his eyes with his hands when he saw the look in Sara eyes, fearing the sheer power of them would melt his eyeballs and leave him blind, this time for real.  
  
Sara's Wrath was directed straight at him like a deadly laser.  
  
Atomic bombs. Poison gas. Dynamite. And among other deadly weapons: The Sidle Glare. Brrrrr.  
  
She folded her arms across her chest and titled her head slightly.  
  
"You didn't get consecutive seats?"  
  
She was so pretty when she was angry, Grissom mused. A bit scary too. But pretty nonetheless.  
  
"I couldn't get consecutive seats," Grissom corrected.  
  
Believe me, I don't know if to be grateful or sorry for the fact that there's a seat between us, Grissom thought, loosening his tie a little bit.  
  
"That is just wonderful! Now I have to seat next to a stranger," she muttered as she squinted up, looking for their seats.  
  
Sara was making her way politely between the other wandering passengers, looking for their seats. Grissom followed her. She always got bossy when she was mad so he had practically expected her to snatch the tickets from his hand and take control of the ship, relegating him to a sailor at her service.  
  
"Excuse me," she said to a guy in his late twenties. He was punching a bag into the bag compartment over his seat. He guy turned around, scanned the merchandise and switched to his pick-up mode before Grissom could say 'bananas'.  
  
"By all means, darling." He stepped aside, bowed his head and waved a hand towards the aisle.  
  
Pl-Ease, Grissom thought, rolling his eyes.  
  
Sara slithered pass him and smiled charmingly before resuming her search.  
  
A couple of steps behind, Grissom witnessed the episode. His eyes narrowed angrily.  
  
Grissom pushed, nudged and 'excuse me'-ed his way through the same stretch of aisle his 'angel' had smiled her way through. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea; all she had to do was smile and the throngs of travellers would bow their heads or drool -or both- and let her pass.  
  
I bet that if I wore the same skirt I wouldn't have the same results, Grissom thought with a little smile.  
  
When they were reaching their seats, Grissom saw Sara leaning over a row next to the window and recoil fast, giving her back to the seats.  
  
"What's wrong?" Grissom asked.  
  
Sara rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger. "I should have stayed in bed today. The guy in the middle seat. The hair-implant guy."  
  
Grissom pursed his lips in a soundless 'oh'. Trouble in the seat front.  
  
********  
  
A flight attendant informed them that they should take their seats. Reluctantly, Sara obeyed. She took a deep breath before confronting the man who thought she was a lesbian addicted to crack.  
  
I guess he'll leave me alone, Sara hoped. The lust that once again shined in the guy's eyes dashed that hope.  
  
"Well pinch me on the ass n' call me Martha! Isn't this coincidence sweetheart?" he exclaimed, making several passengers turn around or crane their necks over their seats to take a peek.  
  
Kill me now, God. Make it fast and painless, Sara thought as the guy gave her a wink.  
  
She took a deep breath.  
  
"It is, isn't it?" Sara replied through clenched teeth.  
  
Sara turned to Grissom. "Which one do you want?" she asked holding both in front of him. "Aisle or Window? The Australopithecus here has the middle."  
  
Grissom shrugged. "Whatever you want is fine with me."  
  
Sara chose the window seat. Anyway she was going to be next 'Lusty Leo' and away from Grissom. In any case, if Leo became even MORE unbearable she could smash the window with her tray table and plunge to her death.  
  
Now that was some plan.  
  
The plane started taxiing along the tarmac.  
  
Not two seconds after Sara sat on her place, Leo put on first gear and started again. "You want me to order something for you? Champagne? Scotch?"  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. "Cyanide, if you insist. A glassful."  
  
*******  
  
A toddler came hurtling down the aisle screaming his lungs out and firing his toy guns at the air. The kid whooshed past Grissom yelling Yeeeeeee- haw! In tow came the hysterical mother: 'Keith! Keith! Get back here!'. Behind the mother came a concerned for safety flight attendant: 'Ma'am, ma'am you have to take your seat! Ma'am!?'  
  
What a nice train of people.  
  
The same kid hurtled pass him again. He paused near him to stick his tongue out at his mother or at the flight attendant. He resumed his run.  
  
Grissom shook his head.  
  
That kid should be wearing a very short leash. Someone should stuff his little mouth full with Ritalin.  
  
The microphone cracked to life with the voice of the pilot: "Good afternoon this is the Capitan speaking. While the first part of our flight will be pleasant, there's a report of a storm building up to the north so. . ."  
  
Grissom leaned back on his seat, closed his eyes and tried to tune out the already annoying voice of Leo. The man was obviously two sandwiches short of a picnic.  
  
Since there was no sense in fantasizing with what (or who) one can't have, he also made an excruciating mental effort to replace the image of Sara's legs from his mind with a nice sexless rippling stream.  
  
"So who's that old man you were talking to?"  
  
Old? Grissom thought, I'll give you old you airhea--  
  
"My pimp," Sara answered calmly. Grissom's eyes shot open.  
  
HER WHAT???????  
  
So much for the soothing rippling stream, Grissom thought.  
  
"You never told me you were a hooker too," Leo said, appearing momentarily dubious.  
  
Sara regarded the man with narrowed eyes. "Would that refrain you from speaking to me?"  
  
"No. So, really, who is he?"  
  
Grissom closed his eyes again and pictured the rippling stream.  
  
This is going to be a long flight, he thought.  
  
TBC. . .? 


	2. chapter two

Disclaimer: don't own them, don't sue.  
  
Author's notes: To all that reviewed: THANK YOU!! Each of you get 10 geek points. To those who didn't review but read this fic: THANK YOU TOO!! However, you get 5 geek points. Sorry, those are the rules :)  
  
Again, reviews are greatly appreciated. They keep the muse close and scare away the 'writier's block' bogeyman.  
  
  
  
********** Chapter two: Lavatory Love.  
  
  
  
When you start wishing for the plane to turn into a flaming ball of fire, you know something is wrong.  
  
Ten minutes into their flight Sara had already excused herself to go to the bathroom twice.  
  
Grissom was sure Sara did not suffer from any bladder problems nor had she gulped down three gallons of water before boarding.  
  
The bad thing -or the good one- about her bathroom trips was that she had to squeeze past him. That meant physical contact between her legs and Grissom's knees.  
  
Leo was more than willing to let her pass all the times she wanted and then some.  
  
Of course, Grissom reminded to himself, Leo didn't have to work with her. Leo was not her boss. Leo was thirty-eight years old.  
  
But I have all my hair, Grissom countered.  
  
"Griss? Could you scoot a little?" Sara asked, leaning slightly over him. Grissom looked up, wide-eyed and surprised that she'd gotten back so soon. Grissom immediately straightened up in his seat to let her more room. Leo did the same.  
  
******  
  
". . .oh yeah, you can do lotsa stuff with a dead racoon. . ." Leo babbled on and on.  
  
Sara rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
Sara wondered for how could she hold her breath before passing out.  
  
"Do you have a second name? I have a second name. You know I have this theory that. . ."  
  
Yeah, yeah, keep yapping you moron, Sara thought as she leaned forward in her seat to take a look at Grissom. He had his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful. It made her want to wake him and-  
  
WHOA! SIMMER DOWN GIRL. Go back to your original thought. Right.  
  
Which was?  
  
  
  
Hmmm. . .  
  
  
  
  
  
Oh, yeah.  
  
He'd been more silent than usual, almost pensive. She would ask him if anything was wrong but with Leo in the middle that was impossible. He'd loosened his tie and the first button. No sense in keeping the formalities while they were in the air.  
  
". . .middle names are really important. For example: Lee Harvey Oswald. That's kinda like an eye-opener if you think about it. . ."  
  
She peeked at her watch. They were going to be a little tight with time once they got off the plane. They were going to rush to the conference and then back to the airport. She hadn't even gotten off the plane and she was already feeling drained.  
  
Grissom stirred. Sara smiled endearingly. She'd seen Grissom once in a suit before and the impact had been the same: earth shattering. Maybe it was because she rarely saw him all dressed up and ready for-  
  
A foxy smile crept into her lips.  
  
Ready to get that tie and shirt ripped off by me, she completed.  
  
Oh my God! Where did that come from?  
  
Abstinence, Sara answered to herself, that was Miss Abstinence speaking loooooud and clear.  
  
"So do you have a middle name?"  
  
Jesus, is he still on with that?  
  
"Gertrude," Sara replied with no hesitation and a perfect poker face that took all her strength to keep.  
  
Grissom's head snapped back at her.  
  
Ha! He wasn't sleeping!  
  
Busted! Sara thought gleefully.  
  
For the first time, Leo sounded like Sara was not so attractive anymore. Maybe he was a name fetish or something.  
  
"Gertrude?" he repeated, frowning.  
  
Grissom's face popped besides Leo's, looking like he was about to puke. Sara made an imperceptible shake of her head to let Grissom know it was a lie. Grissom smiled and shook his head, as if saying 'what I'm I going do with you?'. He leaned back in his seat.  
  
Sara couldn't believe it was working, Leo really seemed to be dubious.  
  
Let's hammer the nail a bit more, just to be sure, Sara thought.  
  
"Yes, Gertrude. Sara Gertrude. . ." Sara didn't know what to say next.  
  
"Van Der Flesterflingberger," Grissom put in from his seat, without opening his eyes.  
  
Leo turned around. "Come again?"  
  
Sara fought the laughter she could feel pushing to get out.  
  
Van Der WHAT??  
  
"Van Der Flesterflingberger," Grissom repeated with absolute coolness and no hint what-so-ever of a smile. Sara had to give to him, no wonder he was a good poker player, he was unreadable.  
  
"Oh," Leo said and for the first time in half an hour he shut up. He seemed to be reconsidering marring her.  
  
Sara let out a sight of relief. Thank you Grissom.  
  
***  
  
Grissom put down his fork with a disgusted face.  
  
Plane food.  
  
Cardboard if you asked him.  
  
He turned around and craned his neck outside his seat to look at the aisle. His eyes fell out of its sockets and rolled down the carpeted aisle.  
  
Sara was talking to the guy who had the bag!  
  
She was flirting with him! In a plane!  
  
Isn't that illegal? Wasn't she violating one of the Ten Commandments?  
  
Thy shall not flirt in a plane.  
  
Grissom bolted up from his seat and stomped across the aisle. The guy to whom Sara was speaking took off before he got a chance to slice him into little pieces.  
  
Grissom knew what he was feeling was completely unreasonable but. . .no man should hit on Sara. Not his Sara. Other women named Sara, yeah sure, why not? But his Sara?? Sara Sidle?? Nah-ah. Grissom didn't think so.  
  
As the distance between them shortened Grissom forgot what he was going to say when he got there.  
  
"Grissom?" Sara asked, intrigued. "What are you doing here? I was on my way back."  
  
All Grissom could think of saying was: "That skirt is too short."  
  
Grissom closed his eyes and winced at his own words. That was the best thing he could come up with?  
  
Welcomed to the Metropolitan museum kids. Now, our newest addition. The specimen's called Gil Grissom and he's the stupidest man in the whole wide world. Moving on. . .  
  
Sara frowned. "Excuse me?"  
  
Oh, great, she didn't hear it. Second chance.  
  
"This is no place for one of your flirting frenzies."  
  
Ok, SOMEONE slipped SOMETHING into my plane food that make me stupid!!  
  
Sara frowned deepened. Her brown eyes sparkled and then set ablaze.  
  
Maybe she didn't hear it.  
  
"My flirting *what*?"  
  
The altitude is getting to him, Sara thought.  
  
Grissom hesitated, his eyes darted around and finally he said: "You skirt is too short. It's too short for a conference."  
  
"What are you afraid of? That the Skirt Conference Committee puts me in jail?" Sara asked sarcastically. Suddenly, she remembered something. Something that had been bothering since they had boarded.  
  
"What do you care? *You* were late."  
  
He glanced around and around. Where the hell did that came from?  
  
"It wasn't my-and exactly what does that have to do with you fraternizing with every man on the plane?"  
  
Sara opened her mouth and gasped.  
  
Sara's eyes narrowed to slits. "We were just talking, Sister Mary Margaret."  
  
"I bet Leo started 'just talking' and then he became a leech, slobbering over you like a drooling dim-wit. That's the last thing I need up here. Another Leo."  
  
"The last thing *you* need? Excuse me but was it you that had to endure 40 minutes of 'how-you-doin'?' and 'are-you-sure-we-haven't-met-before' used to death pick-up lines back at the airport."  
  
Grissom raised a finger at her. "First time I'm late, FIRST TIME and you rub it all over in my face. How many times are you going to use the same argument?"  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted up her chin, dripping arrogance. "Until I please."  
  
Ah, my little Angel, Grissom remembered. My precious Devil. All rolled up into one.  
  
A kid walked by and said 'hi' to Sara. Sara told Grissom he was the kid with the portable T.V. watching "The Flintstones".  
  
Sara crouched on the floor to be at the same level the kid was. "Oh, hi, cowboy. Are you behaving?"  
  
"I made mommy scream and wished she'd clamped her filopian tubes. What are filiopian tubes, Sara?" The kid asked with a frown and then squinted up at Grissom.  
  
Grissom smiled unconvincingly, thinking that the kid was a ruffian, your garden-variety Dennis the Menace.  
  
Before Sara got a chance to explain, Keith frowned at Grissom and flung a finger at him.  
  
"Is he the bad man you were talking about?" the kid enquired. Sara looked up and saw Grissom scowling at her. He was acting like a jerk.  
  
"Yeah, honey, he is," Sara replied, ruffling Keith's dark hair as she stood up.  
  
Keith looked at Sara then back at 'the bad man' and then back at Sara.  
  
"You stood her up," Keith said in a you-should-be-ashamed tone. Immediately afterwards Keith lifted up his right foot up to his small waist and brought it down on Grissom's foot.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
As Grissom leaned down to inspect his damaged toes the kid smacked him in the head with the butt of his toy gun and for the grand finale he kicked Grissom in the left shin.  
  
Sara witnessed he attack with surprised but amused eyes.  
  
Before Sara could utter a word Keith's mother whooshed in and scolded her son for yet another mischief and dragged him away, threatening to glue certain part of his anatomy to the seat.  
  
"You have some weird effects on men," Grissom muttered as he checked the back of his head for blood.  
  
What was that kid packing? A Glock?  
  
"Yeah. You happen to morph into an idiot," Sara said a bit louder than she intended.  
  
Grissom heard like three dozens plastic forks clattering against plates. Half the plane turned around to stare at them, curious and hungry for a real-life-action.  
  
Grissom took her by the arm, away from the middle of the aisle and the prying eyes of the passengers.  
  
Go watch a reality show, he thought angrily.  
  
"The pilot doesn't have to know I'm an idiot," Grissom retorted.  
  
Ok. Let's start a new trend here and THINK before we speak, ok Gil? Grissom thought.  
  
"I'm sure one of the flight attendants will relay the information to him," Sara said.  
  
A huge man appeared from nowhere, looking like a wrestling pro. "Is this man bothering you Miss?" the guy asked.  
  
Sara and Grissom turned towards the voice at the same time.  
  
Oh, no. Not another one, Grissom thought. This one appears as strong as a bull on steroids though.  
  
Sara smiled and slowly turned again to look at Grissom. She smirked at him, like saying 'look at the power I have, I can make this guy strap you to one of the plane's wings if I flutter my eyelashes cutely enough'.  
  
Grissom fumed. "No, I'm not bothering her. I'm her boss, ok. We're discussing work. This is none of your business."  
  
The guy reached into his pocket and took out a card. "I'm a lawyer. I specialize in sexual harassment cases."  
  
SEXUAL HARASSMENT??  
  
Grissom snatched the card away from the guy. Sara snatched the card from Grissom's hand so fast it left Grissom's fingers sizzling.  
  
"This is mine!" Sara said. Leo waltzed into their little powwow.  
  
Just great, Sara thought, why don't we wheel in my grandma here to join the party!  
  
"Hey, Gertrude! Is he giving you a rough time? You know, the fact that his you pimp don't mean he has to treat you like crap."  
  
The plane fell into silence. Sara could swear the engines stopped whirring.  
  
The lawyer quickly snatched his business card away from Sara's hand as he said, "Excuse me, I want this back."  
  
"No, I'm-" Sara started, pointing at Grissom.  
  
"I'm not her-do I look like a--" Grissom stammered. The lawyer returned to his seat with a good-life lesson: never stick your nose in other people's conversations.  
  
Grissom snorted. "See all the problems 'this' has caused?" Grissom hissed, pointing at her skirt.  
  
"Oh grow up!" Sara said before starting towards one of the bathrooms.  
  
Grissom's face turned red with fury. He stalked behind her.  
  
"Come back here! I'm not-"  
  
A flight attendant joined in. She had a food tray on her hand.  
  
"Sir," she said, dogging Grissom's steps towards the bathroom. "Maybe you should leave her alone."  
  
Sara wanted to get away from Grissom as fast as possible to have a moment of peace. She got inside and slammed the door closed without looking. The next thing she head was a moan, a clatter a 'dammit!' and an 'Ahhhh'.  
  
Grissom's nose had collided with the bathroom door.  
  
He had recoiled and the back of his head had hit the flight attendant in the forehead.  
  
The food tray flew in the air.  
  
Leo backed away to avoid the food just as a male flight attendant happened to pass by with a pot of steaming hot coffee that he dumped on. . .himself.  
  
Some of the aisle passengers were now hanging from the arm rests laughing their heads off. A guy was filming, no doubt for World's Wackiest Videos.  
  
Grissom covered his nose with his hands. The passengers winced in sympathy.  
  
"You broke my nose!" Grissom said.  
  
"My forehead!" Two flight attendants steered the injured one to an empty seat.  
  
Leo looked at his new suit. "Look at this! I'm a mess, looks like a baby puked on me."  
  
"I'm burning!" the male flight attendant rushed to another bathroom to pour water over himself.  
  
The door opened immediately, presenting a very sorry Sara. A complete turnaround from the enraged woman that had entered the bathroom.  
  
Sara rushed to inspect Grissom's nose. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"  
  
Grissom glared at her. "You *broke* me nose!"  
  
Sara glared back at him. "Oh my God, you're such a baby. Come here," she said, hustling him inside the bathroom.  
  
Grissom looked in all directions, blue eyes wide and baffled. "What are you doing? This is too small."  
  
She closed the door.  
  
"Trust me. Two people fit in here," Sara assured as she reached for the toilet paper.  
  
Grissom's eyes widened even more.  
  
Well thank you Sara, you have given me a very nice mental image to cling on to while your body is impossibly close to mine in the FREAKISHLY TINY WHEENIE BATHROOM!!!!  
  
The muffled voice of the pilot was rambling about something outside. Neither Sara nor Grissom heard him.  
  
Grissom rolled his eyes. Sara leaned into him, with the toilet paper in her hand at his nose level.  
  
She's kind of too close to me, he thought. Suddenly he felt suffocated.  
  
He jerked his head back before she could touch him and stared at her as if she was about to cut him up with a saw.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked dubiously.  
  
Sara leaned forward to reach his nose. He was still covering it with both his hands.  
  
"What does it look like I'm doing, Griss? Let me look at it," Sara said.  
  
BIG ALARM WAILING!!!  
  
RED ALERT, RED ALERT!.  
  
DANGER! DANGER! GIL ROBINSON SARA SIDLE APROACHING!  
  
"No! I'm ok, really! We should get out of here, people might be thinking the wrong thing," Grissom babbled, practically climbing onto the sink and trying to squeeze thought a crack in the ceiling.  
  
OUTSIDE. . .  
  
"What do you think they're doing," passenger in seat 4-B asked the guy across from him.  
  
The guy mulled it over, looking back and forth from the bathroom to the guy in 4-B.  
  
"20 bucks and your dessert brownie that they're ripping their clothes off," he said finally.  
  
They shook hands to seal the bet. Similar bets were made in the seats close to the bathroom.  
  
BACK IN THE BATHROOM. . .  
  
Sara glared at him. "I don't care what-."  
  
The bathroom floor surged upward. Sara's and Grissom's stomachs climbed all the way up to their throats. They ended up pressed against each other.  
  
Ooooooh, boy, Grissom thought.  
  
Think of a cold shower.  
  
Think of ice.  
  
Ice.  
  
Yeah, ice is good, ice is cold.  
  
She's not cold, she's very much warm like. . .like my electrical blanket.  
  
Sara blew a sigh and fluttered her shirt up and down her chest to create an air current. Was it hot in here or what?!  
  
"Jeez, are you ok?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied, out of breath.  
  
Grissom was about to add something but two knocks interrupted him.  
  
They froze. It was one of the flight attendants.  
  
"Ma'am? Sir? We're about to hit some turbulence. You have to leave the lavatory."  
  
"OK!" they said in unison. Both moved their hands to the door latch. They flinched when their hands touched.  
  
"You do it," Sara said shyly, starting to have strange thoughts about Grissom now that she had him so close.  
  
Grissom turned the latch and pushed but the door didn't open.  
  
He tried again.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Sweet Jesus," he whispered.  
  
  
  
JESUS CHRIST!  
  
  
  
Sara looked at him, their faces inches apart. "What?"  
  
I know this is a test, Grissom said to himself, if I As this, God will stop tempting me with Sara. Yeah, this is definitely a test.  
  
A bit more desperate now, Grissom frantically tugged the latch back and forth and pushed the door between attempts.  
  
Well, well, well whack me in the head with a hammer! We're trapped?! Sara thought, as she fanned her face with her hand. The bathroom was getting as warm as a tropical rainforest.  
  
"Sir? Ma'am? You really need to get out."  
  
Grissom lost it. "THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING-"  
  
Sara clamped a hand over his mouth and ended the sentence in a more polite manner. "We're locked. The latch doesn't slide."  
  
The floor surged upwards again and then plunged downwards like a cart in a roller coaster. Grissom and Sara braced themselves to the first thing they could grope for. Which was: each other.  
  
"I'm going to have to take a seat. You hang tight, this should be over in less than fifteen minutes!" The flight attendant said from the other side.  
  
The tiny bathroom rocked and lurched a bit more, but not so hard.  
  
It was actually kind of fun, Sara thought.  
  
The last turbulence had left them in a pretty compromised spot. Grissom pinning her against the small sink. His fingers splayed over her lower back and his other hand firmly anchored somewhere around her hip.  
  
Her hands were wrapped around his neck for support.  
  
After all, the freaking plane was rocking like crazy, right??  
  
She had to grab some. . .thing. Right?  
  
Their faces were so close that their agitated breaths mingled as the came out of their mouths.  
  
Who cares about the stupid test! I failed, stamp a 'D' on my left butt cheek and make me go to summer school, Grissom thought before kissing Sara.  
  
OUTSIDE. . .  
  
The guy in 4-B checked that his seatbelt was safely strapped on. "Psst!" he called out to the other side of the aisle. "You still think they're going to do it? Turbulence and all."  
  
The plane surged upwards and then fell down slowly, as if doing a circle in the air.  
  
"Hell yeah!" he said without doubts. "*Because* of the turbulence."  
  
INSIDE. . .  
  
Bad Sara, baaaaaad girl, she thought.  
  
She clutched Grissom's tie in her hand and loosened the knot a bit more all the while probing Grissom's mouth with her tongue. Not that he was doing anything different.  
  
"Wait, wait," she mumbled, leaning back in an effort to break a smothering kiss.  
  
Grissom froze.  
  
WAIT!!!!  
  
There's something wrong, Sara thought. This doesn't feel right.  
  
Grissom seemed to wait for her reaction.  
  
Perhaps they both realized they were rushing into things.  
  
"Jacket, jacket," she exclaimed breathlessly. "Take it off."  
  
Perhaps not.  
  
Grissom's hand skated up from her lower back and stopped when he reached the back collar of her jacket. He tugged down and Sara squirmed her shoulders back to smooth the process of stripping her from the asphyxiating jacket.  
  
Grissom tossed it behind him. "Off, off," he mumbled, slightly backing away from her lips.  
  
Oh, no Mister, Gertrude Van Der Festerwhatever wants more, she thought. She clawed Grissom's tie and pulled him back towards her.  
  
SOME TIME LATER, OUTSIDE. . .  
  
"I'm the Captain, and I'm glad to inform you we are pass the turbulences and everything is working perfect."  
  
A roar of applause filled the airplane.  
  
A bathroom door burst open and a very flushed Sara and Grissom emerged from the tiny room.  
  
Sara self-consciously pulled down her skirt, knowing how high up it had been a few minutes before. She flattened her hair and tried to make it look less like she'd stuck up her head into a working turbine.  
  
Grissom cleared his throat but otherwise made no attempt to do something about his tousled hair, crooked tie or messed up collar.  
  
Oh yeah, he was ready for a nap.  
  
He smiled groggily.  
  
After Sara had finished with her she glanced at Grissom. "Griss! Do something!"  
  
He looked dreamily at her, a big smile on his face. "I did something already. Something veeeeery nice."  
  
She smiled and started to slid up the knot in his tie until it hit his collar. "Ouch!"  
  
When Sara turned around to face the aisle she was greeted with dozens of flickering eyebrows and winks.  
  
Their whole section of the plane clapped and cheered. Someone yelled, 'Lucky bastard!'.  
  
Grissom turned impossibly red and hid behind Sara as they walked towards their seats. This time Leo had moved to the window seat and left the other seats to them.  
  
"Thanks Leo," Sara said.  
  
"You're welcome. I know when I have no chance with a woman. My mom always told me I was very inquisitive."  
  
Yeah, inquisitive as a headless chicken, Grissom thought sarcastically as he took a seat next to Leo.  
  
Sara sat in the aisle seat. A few moments went by then Sara leaned over him, close to his left ear.  
  
"Welcomed to the Mile High Club," Sara purred.  
  
Grissom smiled. This club beats by FAR the chess club in High School.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"This is the Captain again. I'm glad to inform all the passengers that this story has FINISHED. Thank you for flying with Angel Airlines." 


End file.
